Of the Angels
by Not A Ghost3
Summary: Even if I speak with a voice of the angels, I am nothing without love...A retelling of the original story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera**

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**Of the Angels**

**Chapter 1**

It's been three years since my papa died, and it still hurts. Loneliness had been my only feeling since then and my dark dressing room doesn't help.

I had landed a small singing role in _Faust_ when I had auditioned for the new Opera house- if you could call it new- and had been given an empty dressing room for my own. It was one of thousands of rooms in this building, and I was lucky to have one. But, it doesn't make any difference, I'm still alone.

On the weekends I spend the nights with Mama Valerius, but during the week I'm stuck here. My dressing room has dark red walls and odd pink carpeting, it's the exact opposite of my room at Mama Valerius'. For it has white walls, wood flooring and a little yellow bed from when I was a child.

I like to think of those times. Back then my time was spent running along beaches and looking for fairies. I miss those times, but I miss papa more.

Often my mind will wander off during rehearsals to think of him. Sometimes I'll even think I hear him talking to me. Telling me stories of goblins, and kings, and angels. He promised me he would send me the angel of music, but I'm still waiting on him.

I trust that the angel must be busy though. I wonder if papa has met him yet, playing his violin while the angel sings. He must of, because most of the time I think I hear papa playing his violin. Actually, I think I hear him playing it right now. Yes, playing the Resurrection of Lazarus, just like he would each night before I would go to sleep.

But this time, it didn't sound like it was in my head. No, it sounded as if the music was coming from the walls. I look around myself and see nothing. Where could it be coming from? Perhaps it's coming from the hallway.

Creeping towards the door, careful not to disturb the heavenly music, I place my hand on the knob before jerking it open. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Despite the fact that no one but myself was on the hall, the music continued. I walked back into my dressing room and quietly shut the door. Maybe someone was in the room. I hadn't heard anyone come in, but it was possible.

"Hello?" I timidly called out. The music stopped so abruptly it caused a chill to go down my back. I had dared to disrupt the music!

"Who's there." I asked, not thinking to hide my fear.

"Who should I be?" The most amazing voice answered.

This voice was no human voice, it must be the angel of music!

"Were you the one just playing?" I asked a little louder.

"Yes." The voice replied.

"Are you the Angel of Music?" I dared to whisper.

"Of course." The voice - no - the angel answered. The Angel was in my dressing room! I fell to my knees in tears.

"Oh angel, I've waited for you. Oh, how I've waited for you-"

"Stand up, Christine." The voice cut me off.

I immediately stood up and brushed my dress off.

"How do you know my name?" I wondered aloud.

"I am an angel, Christine. I know the names of all my students." He answered.

"Oh." Was all I could say.

How silly of me to question an all knowing angel about how he knows my name. Yes, quite silly of me.

"Christine, if I may ask, would you allow me to give you lessons on your voice? I heard you singing just the other day. Your father told me a great deal about you, and when I heard your voice I knew it was you." The angel said with his entrancing voice.

To think, an angel wanted to give me voice lessons!

"Of course. You did not need to ask my permission, though." I agreed.

"Then I wish to start Monday, 7 o' clock in the morning." The voice ordered.

"I will not be late, I promise." Once I said this, the music started again. But this time it was not only the violin, for an unearthly voice joined in, singing the words.

The sound intoxicated me. It seemed as if I was floating but my feet were on the ground. My eyes slowly closed as the music played. Oh, what a voice! It must be from the heavens, no question about it.

The world seemed to stop as I listened to this angel. _My_ angel. I dropped to my knees and cried, but these were tears of joy, not sorrow. My angel had come.

"Papa thank you. Papa, you remembered. Thank you so much. I knew that you'd come through. Thank you, thank you!" I cried out to papa. The music stopped again.

"You miss your father don't you." The angel asked me. I raised my head and nodded.

"Very much." I answered.

"You don't have a mother either, do you."

"No. Just Mama Valerius."

"And she is not a mother to you?"

"Not really. She loves me, and I come to her for support, but no. She will never take the place of my real mother."

"Oh."

"I love her like a mother, it's just hard to explain."

"There are many things that are hard to explain. But eventually, they are explained."

"Will you sing again?" I ask.

"Of course" With that he picked up where he had left off.

I lifted myself up off of the floor and walked over to my mirror. The sound was loudest there. I laid my hand on the cold surface and looked into it. I saw myself, my dressing room, and my furniture. Everything was the same, yet it was different.

My room no longer felt lonely and cold. It was alive with comfort for I was no, longer alone. Now I had a friend. True, not a friend of the earth, but a friend nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. **

**Now then, on with the story!**

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**Chapter 2**

**CPOV**

"Christine, you're home!" Mama Valerius greeted me at the door. She pulled me into a big hug before showing me in.

"How was your week?" She asked as soon as we were seated.

"Fine, I guess." I answered.

"You guess? Something is troubling you, child."

I nervously looked around the room before telling her of the news.

"Oh Mama, the most wonderful thing happened! Do you remember Papa's stories of Little Lotte?" I started off.

"Of course. You only made me recite them every night."

"Yes, well last night I heard the most _beautiful_ music coming from the walls."

"The _walls_?"

"The walls. So, I checked everywhere and couldn't find a soul around. I came back to my room and called out 'Hello,' and a voice answered! Not just any voice, mind you, but this inhuman voice-"

"It must be the angel, Christine."

"I thought the same thing, so I asked him."

"Good. There's never any harm in asking."

"_Mama_, if you wish to hear the rest of the story you mustn't interrupt. Now as I was saying, I asked and he agreed. I was so happy I fell to my knees crying. Then the angel asked leave to give me lessons on my voice, starting Monday at seven in the morning. Can you believe it!" I was bursting with joy.

"Of course I can, Christine. All you have ever wanted, since I met you, was the angel of music. Now he has come. If what you say is true, which I have no doubt it is, then I'll be with you, all the way."

"Mama Valerius, there is one more thing, you mustn't tell a soul that the angel has visited me, understood?"

"Understood. Now then, you must be starved! Come along, everything is already set out." She lead me into the kitchen, where breakfast was awaiting us.

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**E POV**

"Christine, what a lovely name." I mumbled to myself as I prepared for Monday's lesson.

I had finally gained the courage to go up and play for this sweet girl, and she thinks I'm an angel! An angel, what a perfect disguise though. And here I thought I would have to reveal myself. No, I would never allow her to see me, she is far too innocent.

_Bang_! What was that?! It sounded as if it came from the lake. I run to my front door and fling it open, only to be greeted by that blasted Daroga!

"And you said I couldn't get in." The Daroga smirked.

The Daroga was an old 'acquaintance' from my days in Persia, who refused to let me be! Oh, how he made my blood boil sometimes.

"I told you to stay away." I growled.

"Erik-"

"How did you even get in here?" I yelled.

"Quiet, Erik. The managers are having a meeting above you." He shushed me.

"They are, are they? Having a meeting _five_ _floors_ above me. Hmm...that means no one but Erik will hear you begging for mercy when he strangles you." I threaten him.

He simply laughs.

"Erik, why is your beginner scales out? I don't know much about music, but I know enough to know that you don't need these anymore."

"Daroga, if Erik's secrets cease to be Erik's secrets-"

"I know, I know. 'Woe to the rest of the world'." He interrupts.

My uninvited guest proceeds to prowl around my home until he finds his point of interest.

"What is this?" The Daroga asks as he picks up one of my many paintings. "Or should I say, _who_ is this?" He shoved the neatly framed picture into my arms.

I look down, and see that it's- oh no! He had found my painting of _her._ Oh, him of all people could not find out about _her_!

"None of Daroga's concern, that's who." I jerked the painting away and placed it back in its former position.

"Erik, I'm waiting."

"I should hang you right now."

"One last chance." He said slowly. Ah, I could almost taste his fear.

"Erik believes that you will be a very nice meal for his Siren, Persian."

"Stop stalling. I know exactly who the girl in the portrait is."

"Who?" I turn around to face him.

"Mademoiselle Daaé."

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**That was Chapter 2! If you liked it, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.**

**Alright, on to Chapter 3!**

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**Chapter 3**

**EPOV**

My lasso was around his neck before he could think.

"How did you know?" I demanded an answer.

"Stop...let me loose...I will tell you...Erik!" He gasped.

"Promise Erik that you will tell him nothing but the truth?"

"Promise...Promise!" My old chap was slowly sinking to his knees.

I loosened my lasso, as I said I would- for I am a man of his word- and he stood to his feet.

"She is a chorus member." He started.

"Continue."

"That's all I know."

"Oh, come now, Daroga! You were once chief of police in Persia. Don't tell me you no longer know how to creep into other's private lives. Pity, the Shah would have had your head on a platter." I laughed. He didn't know anything at all of her! And it best stay that way.

"Do not remind me of those times."

"Does the old Persian not want to reminisce about his days in Persia?"

"No. Just leave me be."

Now it was my turn to laugh again. He was the one who broke into _my_ home, deciding to bother _me_, and now he's talking as if _I_ dragged him into this. What an old twisted mind.

"Erik, you still haven't answered my question." The Daroga pulled me from my thoughts.

"And would you mind enlightening me, as to what the question was?" I stiffly replied.

"Why do you have a portrait of Mademoiselle Daaé?"

"My answer is the same as earlier, Daroga. None of your concern. Now if you will show yourself out, I have other business to attend." I pushed my way past him, and grabbed my black cloak.

"What kind of business?" The wrinkled Persian asked.

"Daroga, I am absolutely ill from all of your questions. If you have any more, perhaps the little ballet rats can answer them. They seem to have enough stories of me." I say, becoming annoyed with his presence.

One cannot spend two minutes in the company of this man without getting annoyed, and I had given him fourteen. I am quite sick of him now. How in the name of sense did I ever live with him!

"Out." I swiftly order.

He looks me in the eye, he does this to annoy me even further I believe, before crossing his arms.

"You're scared." I tell him. "So scared, that you are afraid to give in to your fear of losing my respect. When actually, Erik's respect is earned when people listen to him." I say coldly.

"Erik, that did not make an ounce of sense. However, I will leave when I wish to leave."

"You leave me no choice." I sling him over one of my shoulders and carry him out to the entrance of the Rue Scribe. I then threw him down and left before he could process what had happened.

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**CPOV**

"I must be going, Mama. I don't want to be late." I bid Mama Valerius goodbye.

She looks at me sadly, but she knows I can't afford to be late to the performance. Mama Valerius is a very kind person, and there is not even a drop of evidence to say otherwise. Her hair is white like the snow and her face is full of wrinkles, but whenever she smiles it can brighten up even the worst of days.

"Good bye, child. Be safe." She kissed my cheek and sent me out the door.

I step out the door and I'm met with a burst of crisp air, alerting me that autumn is upon us. Autumn is my favorite time of year. The air is cleaner, it becomes cooler and the world turns some of the most wondrous colors. But, it also tells me that winter is riding on its tail. Waiting to encase the world in a blanket of snow. But I should not be thinking of such things now, for it's barely September!

I arrive at the steps of the Opera Garnier to see that people were already lined up to go inside. Surely it wasn't that late. I run up the steps to the door and quickly enter.

"Christine Daaé! Where have you been?" The strict voice of the conductor yelled.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." I apologized.

"You said that the last time you were late. But I will give you one more chance. If you fail to show up on time, then I will have no choice but to let you go." The conductor warned.

"I understand completely, Monsieur."

"Now hurry, you only have an hour to get into costume and warm up."

I nodded and ran past him to backstage.

"Daaé! There you are!" One of the stage hands cried out.

"Yes, here I am." I reply to him.

"Oh, pardon me." I say as I almost collide into the prop manager. How was one supposed to navigate backstage!

I am lost now. Yes, I'm completely and utterly sure that I am lost now. Lost backstage among the drunk stage hands and the rest of this chaos. How am I ever going to find my way out? I sink down to my knees and my eyes start to overflow with tears.

"Do you need some help?" A small voice chirped.

I look up to find the source of the voice and spot a petite girl. She had ink black hair and pale white skin. Her outfit consisted of a green tutu and salmon pointe shoes. A ballerina!

"Yes." I whispered.

She extended her hand to me and I grabbed it. The ballerina pulled me up from the ground and brushed the dirt off of my cloak.

"Now then, just follow me and I'll get you out this mess." She assured me.

I allowed her to take my hand and lead me through the eternally confusing paths.

"Daaé, right?" She asked me.

"Yes. Christine Daaé." I answered her.

"I'm Meg Giry."

"You're one of the ballet girls, aren't you."

"_No_. I am a member of the Corps de Ballet. There is a _large_ difference."

"My apologies."

"It's alright. Many have made the same mistake, just refrain from ever referring to me as 'ballet girl' again."

"I will try my best."

We walked in silence for a moment. And the silence was beautiful.

"Christine, we are going to be the best of friends." Meg broke the wonderful silence. She certainly liked to talk.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, it's just that you and I have a connection. See, I blinked just a moment ago and you blinked too. Don't even _try_ to tell me that's not a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"That the universe wants us to be friends."

At this remark a fit of giggles burst through my lips.

"What? What is so funny?" Meg stopped walking to face me.

"Well... Well." I looked around for something to get me out of this situation. Ah! The costume department.

"Meg, thank you very much, but I must be going. You brought me right to where I needed to be." I told her before sprinting off into the room of costumes.

"Christine, over here!" My dresser called for me.

I made my way over to her and handed her my cloak.

"I'm terribly sorry that I'm late, Madame. I hadn't realized the time and-" I started to explain.

"And for the better I believe!" My dresser laughed as she helped me into my first costume. "You should have seen Signora Carlotta! I've never seen such words come out of a lady's mouth. Now my husband's got quite the mouth of a sailor, but dearie me! I'm glad you were late, it would have been far too much for your innocent ears." She disgustedly told me.

"Surely it wasn't _that_ bad, was it?" I quietly asked.

"Think of the worst tantrum you've ever experienced and make it fifteen times worse."

"Oh, my."

"Well, enough of this old lady's gossip, you go get yourself ready to go on." She sighed.

I quickly left the bright room to find the stage manager, I could never quite seem to find him. Oh, there he is! I run up to him and sign my name on his piece of parchment.

"Mademoiselle, the show starts in five minutes." He whispers to me.

"Thank you." I whisper back.

I take my position along with the rest of the chorus members and prepare for the curtain to rise. Each one of us tried our hardest every night to please the managers, hoping for a promotion. Tonight's performance was going to be different, though. This performance was going to _my_ best. For I can only hope that a certain angel will be watching.

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**Hmm, I wonder what Erik is up to? Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.**

**Okay, so in this chapter, Christine has been taking lessons for about three months now. Just wanted to warn you so you didn't get confused. **

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**Chapter 4**

**R POV**

"Monsieur, you are missing Mass." The young sailor attempted to lure me back to worship.

"Go without me, I will be there in a moment." I dismissed him. I watched as he nodded and left me to my thoughts.

I am going to miss this. The open sea and the adventures that lay upon it. The gentle rocking of the boat as it sways back and forth. Ah, and the sweet sound of waves crashing against the boat in the dead of night. Yes, I would deeply miss all of this and the joys of being a part of the Royal Navy, but, fate directs me to other adventures. Otherwise known as my brother, Phillip de Chagny.

'A Comte's job is never done' he says, but I am not a Comte! Shouldn't a Vicomte be allowed to do as he pleases? All I care about is my ship and my crew. Why would I ever need to know of the 'proper' life of a de Chagny, when I don't wish to be a part of it?

But, I have no choice. Phillip comes today to bring me back home, and I will have to relearn his ways of life again for six months. After that time, however, I can go back to my days at sea, and set off for the North Pole.

"We are docked!" I hear one of the watch outs yell.

No matter how much I resist, I must go. My future awaits.

"Dear brother! What a joy it is to see you again!" My elder brother greets me at the docks.

"Good day." I reply.

"What kind of greeting was that? We haven't seen each other in two years and that's all your poor brother gets? Good day?"

"Phillip, you are anything but poor."

"I prefer to stay humble, Raoul."

I snicker at his remark. My brother, humble?

"Have you any adventures to tell me of?" He asks as we enter our carriage.

The carriage is exactly the same as I remember it, red velvet seats, windows for our viewing, and small black handles to aid in getting in and out. Not a thing seems to have changed a bit in two years. Not the dock, not my brother and not even the carriages. What was the point of coming back on land? Everything here was consistently the same, while out on the sea, not a day goes by without something new.

"Raoul, I asked a question."

"Hm? Oh! Yes, yes, I have many tales of the sea to tell you."

"Good. You may tell me them as we head to Paris."

"Paris? Why Paris."

"That salty air must have affected your brain, brother. The house is in Paris."

"I knew that."

In truth, I had all but forgotten the location of the mansion. I didn't care to think of it often.

"To celebrate your homecoming, I bought tickets for the both of us for the Opera Garnier's entire season."

"You're still patronizing that silly Opera house?" I snorted.

"Silly! Why it has become one of France's most respected Opera houses! Silly? I think not."

"Is that screeching lady still the lead soprano?"

"Signora Carlotta does not screech! She makes the most divine music. And might I say, the lead ballet dancer is not so bad either."

My brother spoke this one little sentence about the lead ballet dancer so softly and sweetly, that I knew immediately Phillip had taken up quite the fancy with her. Another thing that hasn't changed, my brother's constant attempts to win a woman.

"And when are we going?" I ask, my mind out of ideas for things that would interest my brother.

"Tonight. We can watch the performance, I'll introduce you to the mangers, grab a drink and then you can settle into your room back at home." He cheerfully explains.

"Great." I say sarcastically.

"Raoul, you remind me so much of myself when I was your age." He tells me, though I can't understand why.

True, we look the same with our blond hair and blue eyes, but other than that we are completely different. He is short and skinny, while I am of average height and well built with strong muscles due to lifting heavy cargo and helping pull up the anchor of the boat. He prefers music and food, and while I enjoy both, I much prefer the outdoors.

"How so?" I ask him.

"I had the same adventurous spirit."

"Really?"

"Why of course! But then, my duties as the new Comte became much more important."

Phillip had become the new Comte after my father died, taking over _all_ of his duties, including trying to be my father. Phillip had raised me until I turned seventeen and joined the Navy, which I have just left to come back home.

"How have Ellen and Victoria been?" I asked.

Ellen and Victoria were my older sisters and I hardly ever heard anything new about them.

"Well, Ellen is fine, as well as her family. Victoria is getting ready to have another child, though."

"Another? This will make her fifth one, will it not?"

"Her seventh."

"Oh."

"Yes, but each of them are a blessing."

My nieces and nephews counted as blessings? Ha! They were quite the little demons the last time I came in contact with them. Ellen had one child, then she told us that she would have no more, on the other hand, Victoria couldn't have enough of them.

"Raoul, we will be arriving at the house in just a few minutes, you will need change quickly if we are to get there on time."

We pull up to the house and Phillip walks me to the door. The white, three story house stood confidently on its own in the heart of Paris. We enter and it looks just the same as I left it. The polished marble floors and the pristine white walls, but the real spectacle was the grand staircase right in the middle of the house that used to be the envy of all of Paris according to one of the maids. I walk up the marble steps to my room to get changed. I step into my room and I'm met with a servant standing ready to change me as quick as possible.

I get into my suit and set off back down the stairs to meet Phillip and go to the Opera house. I've never quite understood why people go back again and again to the opera, if I've seen something once, it's enough to last me a great long while. But I will go to satisfy my brother, I doubt I will enjoy it, but I will go. A Vicomte must not refrain from supporting his fellow man, even if that man is your overly cheerful brother.

"Raoul! Hurry up, you can marvel at the stairs when we get home." Phillip calls me. I run down to him and he leads me into the carriage.

"Raoul, trust me, you will enjoy the performance greatly." Phillip poorly attempts to raise my spirits.

"I'm sure I will." I reply flatly.

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**C POV**

"Oh, Angel I'm so nervous." I shake with fear in front of my mirror.

"My child, you will be fine." The angel assures me, "It is only a small solo."

"Yes, but I need to stand out from the rest of the soloist. It would just be so much simpler if I would get a lead role."

"Child you must be patient. Just wait and see, we will astonish all of Paris!"

Whenever my angel would tell me this, my smile that was reserved for only him would break out.

"You really believe so?" I smile with hope.

"I have not a doubt."

"I sing only for you, you do know that?"

"I do, and I am thankful for that. No man can ever receive such a precious gift as that."

My heart pounded against my chest, attempting to burst out. I have pleased my angel!

"Now then, you have a performance to get to."

"Oh, yes! Thank you for reminding me."

I made my way to backstage and got into my position. Just as the curtain was to rise, a large woman with hair red as fire came storming towards me.

"You better not make a fool of yourself. Or me." Carlotta spat in my face.

My head frantically nodded in response and she left to go back into her position.

The Opera started off without a single problem, but then it got to my solo. My forehead gathered sweat quicker than I thought possible, and the world around me was getting blurrier. _Don't faint, don't faint_. I chanted over and over again in my head.

Oh, what had the angel told me to do when I was nervous? _Just focus your attention on someone in the audience_. Alright, that's not to hard to do. I take a deep breath and look up at the nearest box preparing to sing. No one in the box seemed to be focused on me. Oh, that's good. I opened my mouth to sing when my eyes caught a glimmer of something familiar. A man with blue eyes that were the color of the sea and blond hair the color of sand. It was _Raoul_!

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**It looks like a certain someone has made an appearance. Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.**

**Thank you so much for your reviews! **

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**Chapter 5**

**CPOV**

I attempt to get my thoughts in order as I rush back to my room. Oh, what was I going to tell my angel? I faltered on my one solo all because of Raoul. And he is only a man! I let my thoughts focus on a man instead of my angel!

"Christine!" Meg Giry stopped me in my tracks. What did she want now?

"Yes?" I quickly turned to face her.

"Why didn't you tell me that you could sing like that?"

Meg had become my best friend since I met her and she expected me to tell her everything. _Everything_. Now, Meg told me her whole life story, but I hardly told her anything about me except for a brief summary of my life.

"Meg, please excuse me." I tried to walk away, but she grabbed my arm.

"Do you have a voice instructor?" She asked. I had get away from her, if I didn't, I wouldn't get to my dressing room until tomorrow.

I broke her grip and ran down the hall. The Angel had instructed me not to tell anyone of him, and at the moment, I'd prefer not to make him any more upset than he was going to be. I burst into my dressing room and locked the door.

"Christine-" I hear my angel start.

"Angel, forgive me. Forgive me, please!" I beg as I fall to my knees. I knew he would be mad. I knew he would!

"Child, stand up. You did very well." He softly told me.

"You mean... You mean you're not mad at me for focusing my thoughts on someone else?"

"Someone else? Explain."

"A man, actually."

"A _man_? Do you know his name?"

"Oh yes, his name is Raoul." Ecstasy filled my voice.

Raoul. Just the thought of his name brought back fond memories. When my father would tell stories, he would be right beside me. We would run around, begging the neighbors for tales of adventure, and even look for fairies! But, my favorite memory of him was when he ran into the sea to save my scarf. I was seven, and he couldn't have been older than me by much, and he ruined his suit to save my dear scarf. It was dear to me because my mother had knitted it for me. I still have it, the brilliant red scarf. He came up to me, returned it, then introduced himself. I learned that he was a Vicomte, and he didn't have a mother any more either. From that moment on, we became the best of friends. But, I'm sure that he has forgotten me.

"You've met this man before, I suppose?" My angel disrupted my thoughts.

"Yes. We were childhood friends. I remember him, but I fear that he has forgotten me." I answered.

The room fell into a deep silence as I said this. This wasn't right.

"Angel?" I call out.

No answer.

"Angel?" My voice filled with worry.

No, no! He couldn't have left. He promised he wouldn't leave me, he promised!

I began to frantically search my dressing room for any sign of him. No music, no voice, no angel! What have I done?

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**EPOV**

I ran down the hallways of my darkened labyrinth upon hearing of this boy and Christine's apparent feelings for him. I couldn't hold my anger in any longer and knocked over more than a dozen of my candles that were lighting the path back to my house. I had spent four months watching and caring for Christine and now she is going to leave me for this _boy_! She does not know that she will leave yet, but she will. She spoke so fondly of this boy, her _friend_ she called him, and my blood boiled at the slight reminder of his name. I need to stop her, but how?

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft nuzzling on my neck. I reach my gloved hand up and see that the white horse from the Opera house's stables had found me again.

"You're not supposed to be here, Cesar." I scold the majestic beast.

He just nudged my shoulder in response.

"Go." I snarl as I lead the horse in the direction that I knew the stables to be. He just stubbornly stood there, watching me struggle with his lead.

"I have no choice but to ride you then." I swiftly get onto the horse and ride him down the dreary pathway, leading to my house on the lake. Cesar knows the way to the lake from me deciding to make him useful. Also, I believe he enjoys having someone ride him, otherwise he'd be suffocating between the other horses in the stable. He stopped right at the edge of lake and heaved a great sigh.

I look at my house from across the lake and marvel at it. It looked so out of place down here in the fifth cellar, but it wouldn't look out of place above ground. Yes, it would look magnificent above ground. Up there, it could have grass surrounding the front door, and I would have a mailbox like a normal man, and the house would have a woman inside it for me to entertain all day. But my house had none of those things.

I jumped off of the horse and tied him to a post I had sticking up on the shore. For once in my life, I was stumped. How was I going to make Christine forget about this boy? Then it dawned on me.

"Erik has had an idea, Cesar. One that will ensure his and Christine's happiness. Would you like to hear it? No? Well, that's alright. It's not meant for your ears to hear anyway." I whisper to the horse before walking over to the edge of the lake.

I stick my hands into its icy water and pull up the boat that would take me across the shore to my house. I step into it and set off. Tomorrow I would make things right, for I was at a great advantage, being an angel and all.

* * *

**Hmm... what is Erik planning? Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the Phantom of the Opera**

* * *

**Of the Angels**

**Chapter 6**

"Sick! Signora Carlotta can _not_ be sick, she is the lead performer for the gala tonight!" M. Debienne cried out in rage to his counterpart, who was sitting across the table.

The two of them had just received a letter, postmarked with Signora Carlotta's address, informing them that she could not perform at the gala due to a sudden illness she had managed to catch. The bald manager huffed and took his seat before taking a swig of the unattended bottle of brandy sitting on the table.

"I'm too old for this stress, Poligny." He said after a moment.

"That's why we're retiring, Debienne." M. Poligny finally said.

"No it is not, and you know exactly why we are." Debienne took another swig.

"The Ghost." Poligny answered.

Debienne jumped the large, wooden table to smack Poligny across the cheek.

"Keep your mouth shut, Poligny! You know he wishes for no one to talk of him."

"Yes, that is rule twenty-six, correct?"

"Correct."

A small, yellow envelope, other than the one from the Prima Donna, sat on the table haunting the two managers silently. The Opera Ghost had many requirements and one of them happened to be that a salary of 20,000 francs was to be paid to him each month. That salary was contained in this certain envelope, awaiting to be picked up.

An elderly woman marched herself down to the manager's office, in her black dress and feathered hat, with her chin stuck out.

"Antoinette!" Poligny greeted the box keeper at the door.

She proudly stood there and held her hand out to the manager, who gladly took it to lead her to the table

"I am to be addressed as Mme. Giry." She said as she settled herself into a chair.

Debienne reached across the table and held out the envelope of money. Mme. Giry snatched it from his hand and put it inside a small purse that was hanging on her shoulder.

"You may leave now." Debienne politely suggested.

"Let this poor woman rest awhile. It was a hard trek up those stairs." Mme. Giry quickly snapped back as she leaned back against her chair.

Debienne and Poligny looked at each other in defeat before picking back up their previous conversation.

"Should we contact Gabriel? He's the chorus master, he might have replacement." Poligny began.

"No. Nobody in the chorus can replace Carlotta." Debienne quickly dismissed the idea.

At the sound of the managers' predicament, the old ballet director's eyes popped open.

"Perhaps, I can be of some assistance." Mme. Giry stood up very slowly and walked over to the two managers.

"There is a singer, by the name of Daaé." She continued.

"Daaé? What an odd name." Poligny laughed.

"Christine Daaé, Messieurs." She corrected him.

"The violinist daughter?" Debienne curiously asked.

"Yes, now stop interrupting!" She yelled.

Both managers sunk lower into their chairs at her unexpected rage. Mme. Giry straightened her posture and placed her cane in front of her.

"Excuse my outburst. Now then, the Opera Ghost has talked very highly of this girl, he says that she has been well taught, and that her voice will astonish all of Paris." Mme. Giry gave her message.

Debienne and Poligny sat there in silence for a moment, before Debienne leaned over the table.

"Did you say, the Opera Ghost told you this?" Debienne quietly asked.

"Yes." She answered him

Debienne shot a glance at Poligny before sitting back in his chair.

"Rule number two." Debienne whispered.

"You must always obey his wishes, or else." Poligny finished the sentence for him.

"Can you find a way to contact, Mademoiselle Daaé?" Debienne asked Mme. Giry.

She nodded in response and left the room to find Christine. When she was out of sight, Debienne walked over to their office door and locked it.

"The sooner tonight comes, the better." He sighed and picked up his bottle of brandy and drank the last of it, before the Opera Ghost could make a rule against that too.

* * *

**EPOV**

I waited for her. I did not use any hypnotism on her to lure her to her dressing room, nor a potion of any sort. I waited for _her_ to come here, and she did. I watched Christine enter pensively when our lesson usually started.

"Angel?" She whispered.

She trembled as she awaited my answer.

"Yes?" I sadly answered.

"I thought you had abandoned me!" Her hand flew over her heart as she let her anxiety slip away.

Her heart is such a lovely thing.

"I might." I tell her.

At my voice, she perked up, but her face quickly filled with worry. I hated to see her perfect face filled with worry.

"What...what do you mean?" Her voice cracked.

"Your heart is set on earthly desires, and heaven can not have that."

"Earthly desires?"

"The boy you told me about yesterday."

"Raoul?"

Her innocent question burned. I took a shallow breath before giving her the obvious answer.

"Yes. If you choose to bestow your heart on this earthly form, I will have no choice but to return to heaven." My eyes swell up with tears as I watch her eyes do the same.

"Raoul," She spoke slowly through her tears, "is nothing but a brother to me. I swear, he has always been a brother, and nothing more. I promise,"

My heart relaxed at her comment. A brother, she only saw him as a brother.

"You promise what? It is very impolite to leave one waiting, Christine."

"I promise that I will never marry if it means that you'll stay. Besides, my heart is not capable of earthly love." She finished.

I let her finish crying before speaking again.

"Have you been practicing, child?" I ask.

"Of course." Christine nodded.

"Then let's begin. You never know when an opportunity will arise."

* * *

Mme. Giry, wandering the hallways in search of Mademoiselle Daaé, heard screaming coming from the stage managers office. With great effort, she ran to the office and opened the door only to be greeted with a screaming Gabriel and an ever so calm Persian.

"What is going on in here?" Mme. Giry loudly inquired.

"An accident, Madame." The Persian gruffly replied.

Mme. Giry's eyes swept around the room. Gabriel sat clutching his hand next the piano, the stage book was in pieces on the floor, and all of the paintings had fallen from their hooks. A disaster area would be a better suited title for the room.

"Clean this up! Now!" She demanded as she pounded her heavy, black cane on the floor. She turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of Gabriel's voice.

"Mme. Giry, if you would, please fetch the nurse." Gabriel quietly requested. Mme. Giry sighed and shuffled back over to where he was huddled. Blood dripped down his forehead, and large black bruises covered his arms.

"Gabriel, why are you bleeding?" She sighed as she further inspected his wounds.

"I was frightened, Madame."

"By what?"

"The Ghost."

"That's preposterous! That trouble making Persian must have scared you."

"Oh no, no. He comes in here all the time, and not once has he startled me. But, Madame, I got off easy."

"You are talking nonsense."

"I am not. When the Persian came in, I turned to greet him, but behold! The Ghost stood right behind him! He looks just like Bouquet said he did, with a death's head and everything."

"It would do Bouquet some good if he would keep his mouth shut." Mme. Giry huffed while she stood up. She brushed her dress off and walked over to the door.

"Oh! I almost forgot, have either of you seen Christine Daaé?" When neither of them answered, she took it as a 'no' and left.

The Persian just stood there, his eyes wide with fear, imagining that the worst might have happened to this poor girl.

* * *

**CPOV**

"Mademoiselle Daaé?" Someone called me from the other side of my door.

"Answer it." My angel ordered. I made my way over to the door and opened it. There stood an elderly woman, with a cane in one hand, and two letters in the other.

"Yes?" I politely greeted her. She stuck out her hand to give me one of the two letters.

"Signora Carlotta has fallen ill, and the managers have requested that you take her place." She informed me.

"Me? Take Carlotta's place?" I was bewildered!

They wanted me to take the Prima Donna's place? My eyes looked straight into this woman's eyes, and I recognized them. They were the same as Meg's violet-blue eyes. This is Meg's mother!

"Who else's spot would you be filling? The song list is contained in the envelope. The gala is tonight, I hope you are prepared." With that Meg's mother gave me a curt nod and then she started her journey back down the hallway.

I silently shut the door and opened the letter. I read over it before looking up in confusion.

"What's the matter?" My angel's seraphic voice floated from the walls.

"I have been asked to replace La Carlotta for tonight's performance. And this song list, well, we've been practicing every song on here for two months." I answered.

"Would you mind sharing what they are?"

"There is a few passages from _Romeo and Juliet, _and then the Prison scene from _Faust_."

"What a joyous coincidence! We shall start rehearsing you immediately."

The next few hours flew by in a haze as we practiced each song with the heavenly accompaniment until it was perfected. Finally, we stopped and the angel sighed.

"Christine?" He spoke very softly.

"Was something wrong?" I began to worry. I thought my last song was utterly flat.

"Nothing was wrong at all."

"Then what is it that you want to tell me?"

"You can now give to men a little of Heaven's music."

* * *

"Messieurs, come in, come in." Poligny showed the two men, who were replacing him and his partner as the managers, into his office.

"It's quite small, wouldn't you think?" The one named Firmin commented.

"I've seen smaller, Firmin." The second one, André, whispered back.

The ever so nervous Poligny paced the office awaiting news from the chorus master, as to whether or not the Daaé girl had agreed. Debienne, on the other hand, sat at the head of the large table staring at a letter that had just been delivered. The letter was written in what appeared to be a child's scrawl written with red ink, but Debienne knew better. This letter contained strict orders for the new managers to know of _his_ presence.

"Poligny, please stop pacing, you are scaring our guests." Debienne ordered without looking up from his letter.

Poligny stopped and showed Firmin and André to their seats.

"Messieurs, welcome to the Opera Garnier." Debienne finally looked up from the letter.

"As you know-" Debienne continued but was cut off by a tall, looming figure standing in the doorway.

"Do you need something?" Debienne asked the stranger. The stranger shook his head before speaking.

"Christine Daaé will sing tonight." The figure said with an oddly familiar voice.

He threw something to the ground, and a cloud of smoke surrounded him. Once the smoke was cleared, the stranger had vanished without a trace.

All four men in the room looked around them, but the stranger was nowhere.

"Who was that?" Firmin shouted at the managers.

The two current managers looked at each other before confirming the obvious.

"The Ghost." They answered in unison.

* * *

**Love it, like it, hate it? Review and tell me what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Sorelli!" The little ballet girls shrieked as they ran down the hallway to the head ballet dancer's dressing room.

Sorelli threw down her speech to open her door. All of them burst into her elegant dressing room screaming notes higher than the singers.

"Girls!" Sorelli yelled at them, but they continued their panicked frenzy.

"_Girls_!" She yelled even louder. They immediately quieted down.

"What is the meaning of all of this ruckus?" She demanded.

The members of the corps de ballet nervously looked around themselves until one of them spoke up.

"The Ghost!" The littlest ballerina, Jammes, yelled out.

"Who?" Sorelli asked.

"The Ghost!" Another one cried.

The girls quickly immersed back into their frenzy, and all Sorelli could do was watch it happen.

"Why do you think it was the Ghost, Jammes? Did you see him?" She yelled above the noise.

At this question the room fell silent, and Jammes made her way to the front of the small dressing room.

"I don't think, I know. I saw him just as clearly as I see you."

It was true, the ballet girls, on their way to the dorm rooms had been met with the Ghost. He was dressed in a gentleman's suit and disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

"The Ghost is uglier than Bouquet told us he was. He has a death's head and no nose!" Meg Giry commented.

"Very ugly." The rest of them chorused after her as they stuck their first finger and pinkie out, to ward off any bad luck that they had acquired by talking of the ghost.

Sorelli, not being known for being superstitious, dismissed the girls gossip without a second thought.

"I need to work on my speech for the manager's retirement tonight, go on." Sorelli attempted to shoo the girls out of her dressing room, but was stopped by a knocking on her door.

"Don't open it, don't open it!" Little Jammes warned.

Sorelli's hand flew to the gun she kept concealed in the undergarments of her dress.

"There is no such thing as a-" but the door was opened before she had a chance to finish.

"Mother!" Meg Giry ran over to her mother, who was entering the room.

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" Mme. Giry allowed herself to sink down into Sorelli's large, red chair.

"Mother, what's wrong?" Meg asked as everyone surrounded her and her mother.

"He's dead! I saw him!" Mme. Giry cried out.

"Who's dead?" Sorelli intervened.

"Joseph Bouquet! He was found hanging on one of the sets that are stored in the third cellar." She said, out of breath.

"It must have been the Ghost." Meg Giry assumed.

"Shhh! I've taught you better than that, you are not to speak of him." Mme. Giry hushed her daughter.

"Mme. Giry, how did you find out?" Sorelli asked.

"One of the stagehands went down to the third cellar, I'm not sure why, and found him there. But when he returned with some help, the noose that Bouquet had been killed with was gone! Vanished!" Mme. Giry explained.

Sorelli ran over to her door with all of the ballet rats following suit.

"Where are you going?" One of them asked. Sorelli turned around to look at the group of girls.

"To get to the bottom of this mess." Sorelli said.

"We're coming with you." Bold little Jammes announced. With a sigh, Sorelli led the clan of girls out of the room.

* * *

**CPOV**

"Mademoiselle, breathe." The doctor ordered me. I obeyed him, and let out the breath I was holding. I wasn't sure why I was sitting on my dressing room floor, with a doctor probing me. Everything that had happened tonight seemed like one, big blur. One minute I was hitting the top note in my range, and the next everything had went black.

"Monsieur, what happened?" I asked.

"You fainted." He answered.

"Oh yes, I seem to remember..." My voice faded as I watched a young man push his way past the nurse and into my dressing room.

"Little Lotte!" The man greeted me. No, it couldn't be! My angel will be raging! The man fighting to get past the nurse was Raoul.

"Monsieur?" I pretended not to know him. He crouched down to where I was sitting on the floor and cradled my cheek.

"Surely you haven't forgotten me." He whispered. I shook my head and pushed his hand away.

"It's me, Christine, Raoul de Chagny." He said a little louder.

"Pardon me, Monsieur le Vicomte, but you must have mistook me for someone else."

"I ran into the sea to fetch your scarf, remember?"

I didn't respond this time. I desperately looked over to the doctor, who was busy writing in a small journal. _You are an actress, you can do this_, I reminded myself. I allowed a short, forced laugh to emerge from my mouth.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, I think that it would be best if you left. Mademoiselle Daaé needs some space." The doctor advised him. He stood up, bringing Raoul with him, and left.

I slowly stood to my feet, ready to face the worst. I know _he_ is watching, but as to when he will make his presence known, I don't know.

"You sang beautifully tonight." My angel startled me.

"Thank you. I sang only for you." I trembled

"I am well aware of that. Are you very tired." He asked. He's holding back his rage.

"Very. I gave you my soul tonight, and now I am dead."

"Your soul is a very beautiful thing, child. No man has ever received such a precious gift. The angels wept tonight."

I stood there, awaiting his anger, but it didn't come.

"Do you love me, Christine?" My angels voice was so demanding that it caught me off guard.

"What?" I said dumbly.

"You must love me!"

"I...I..." I stammered.

"But you don't, you love that boy of yours! You laughed it off, but there is no way of deceiving an angel, my dear."

"How can you say such a thing when I sing only for you?" I yelled back.

"You told me he was like a brother to you. If he is like a brother, then why did you avoid him?"

"I don't know!" I could feel hot tears running down my cheeks as I said this.

"Oh, Christine." The angels softly sighed.

"He is nothing but a friend, trust me." I whispered. I stumbled over to my mirror and pressed my forehead to its cold glass.

"I will prove it. Tomorrow, I am going to Perros to visit my father's grave, and I will ask Monsieur de Chagny to come." I started to plot. All I had to do was write Raoul a letter and pray that he would come.

"Do as you please, child, but I will be there also, for I am wherever you are. And if you have not lied to me, Christine, then I will play The Resurrection of Lazarus at the stroke of midnight on your father's violin." My angel confirmed the deal.

"Goodnight, Christine." My angel stiffly bid me goodnight.

"Goodnight." I hated to leave my angel on such ill terms, but I had to.

I rushed over to my desk and grabbed my stationary. I penned out an invitation to Raoul as fast as I could. I wrote about where I would be, but I did not wrote him a reason. I would have to explain it to him, when he arrived. If he arrived. I sealed the letter and ran out of my room and into the dead of night, quicker than I thought possible. I located the small post office around the corner, only to find that they were closed. I took a deep breath of the cold, winter air before setting off to find the de Chagny manor.

I reached the manor and quietly walked up to the door. I knocked and the door was answered just as soon as I had knocked by a woman dressed in a plain gown reserved for maids. That's odd, I thought butlers answered doors for the high society of Paris. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I handed her the letter.

"This is to be delivered to Monsieur le Vicomte, immediately." I ordered her.

She nodded and shut the door in my face. I sighed and slowly made my way back down the white stairs of the mansion. I used to dream about this place when I was little. Dreamed that this was a castle and I was a princess, but I've never inside the de Chagny manor. This was the closest I've ever gotten to it.

I arrive at Mama Valerius' flat and let myself in.

"Mama, I'm home!" I call. No answer.

"Mama?" I say again.

She must be asleep. I creep over to her room and crack it open, only to find her lying face down on the floor.

"Mama!" I run over to her and help her sit back up. She groggily watched me as I propped her against the bed.

"What happened?" I asked her. She shook her head and closed her eyes, but I didn't let her slip back into unconsciousness, I jolted her awake.

"I'm not sure, Christine, I'm not sure." I whispered. I helped her to her feet, she wobbled and I feared she would fall again, but I put her on to her bed before she had the chance to.

"Mama, I'm going to Perros tomorrow, will you be alright here, alone?" I ask her. She nods her head, and I allow sleep to overtake her. I walk to my little room, and I begin to pack for my trip. I would set off at daybreak, and could only hope, for my sake and his, that Raoul got that letter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much for reviewing, favoriting, and following. Now on to chapter 8!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. **

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**EPOV**

Midnight could not come soon enough. I had watched Christine all day long from the shadows. I was with her when she arrived and I was with her when that _boy_ showed up.

He told Christine about how much he loves her, and she would deny it, claiming that she could love no one. Then they went to her father's grave, I was there also. They prayed and told a story about a girl named Lotte. Now, I had overheard Christine telling herself this story one time, so I already knew it, but what I could take no longer, was that this boy kept calling her 'My Little Lotte'. It took all I had not to kill him on the spot.

It had finally reached the midnight hour, and Christine silently escaped her room and slunk over to the graveyard. Very softly, I began to play her father's violin. I had dug it out of Monsieur Daaé's grave on her last trip here, and had decided to keep it. Christine's eyes shut as the music coiled around her, and she sung along.

She is the angel. How she could ever think I was, I haven't the slightest idea. When the song finished she sighed a thank you and set back off to go back to the her room at the inn. But she had two shadows, one being hers, and the other that boy's!

I looked around myself and saw a pile of bones left from decades and centuries ago. I ran over and quickly hid myself in them. When the young Vicomte heard the rustling he turned around to look at the pile. When he saw nothing, he turned back around. I slowly stood up, allowing some off the skulls to roll to his feet. He jumped back as the first one hit him, he continued this action until the pile of bones circled around him.

"Who's there?" He shouted. I chuckled and drew nearer.

"Come out you, you coward!" He shouted again, but this time he turned.

He ran at me full speed, but I was quicker. He grabbed ahold of the corner of my cloak and I yanked him into one of the windows of the small chapel. The stained-glass window shattered into a cloud of colored glass at the impact. He yelped in pain, but rose from shards and came at me again, but this time he revealed a gun. It was loaded and pointed at me. I quickly ripped my mask away and the Vicomte froze in terror, giving me sufficient time to whip out my lasso. I threw it, and it landed around his neck. He pathetically pleaded for mercy, but I had none to spare. One more pull of the rope and he'd be dead.

"Stop!" I heard a man's voice cry out, however, it did not belong to the Vicomte. I released him and retreated back into the shadows, back to where I belonged.

* * *

"Rule number four, Box 5 is to be kept empty for my use only. If you fail to obey this rule, the worst will befall you." André read aloud from the Ghost's rule book.

"I should be able to sit in Box 5 if I want to!" Firmin interrupted him.

"If trouble arises with this certain rule, seek information from Antoinette Giry." André continued reading.

"Who is Antoinette Giry?" Firmin asked.

"She must be the Box keeper."

"Summon her at once!" Firmin ordered.

The custodian standing in the room set off to find her. He returned with Mme. Giry on his arm.

"You are the keeper for Box 5, correct?" Firmin asked.

"Yes, Monsieur." She answered.

"Box 5, is it the Ghost's box?" Firmin questioned her further.

"Who's box did you expect it to belong to? The King of France?" She snorted.

"How do you know it is the Ghost's box? Have you seen him?"

"No, but he speaks to me. What a voice he has!"

"How can you hear him, but never see him?"

"He is a ghost, Monsieur. He can choose when to reveal himself and when not to."

Firmin's head fell smack down on to his hands, confused about what was happening.

"It's a joke." Firmin realized.

"What?" André asked

"This is Debienne's and Poligny's idea of a joke. The ghost is just a hoax!" Firmin laughed.

"And somehow they got the entire company, dancers, all of the stage hands and Box keepers in on this joke?" André skeptically replied.

"That's exactly what they did!" Firmin shouted.

Mme. Giry slammed her hand down on the table and stood up.

"They did not! I have proof." Mme. Giry protested.

"What kind of proof?" Firmin sneered.

"The Ghost tips me."

"Tips you?"

"He leaves 5 francs, sometimes 2 francs, even 10 francs occasionally!"

"I can tell you where he gets the money." André said under his breath.

Firmin, too immersed in his debate with Mme. Giry, didn't hear him.

"Madame, I am going to sit in that box tonight." Firmin told her.

"No!" She yelled in horror. "He is very strict about his box. Why just last week, M. Levee was sitting in that box with his wife and he broke his leg on the way out of the box."

"And it was the Ghost's fault?" Firmin raised an eyebrow.

"Of course! There is no tripping hazard outside of Box 5."

"Madame, I am going to sit in that box tonight, no matter what you tell me, or what happens to me."

"You are either the bravest man I know, or the stupidest." Mme. Giry shook her head, stormed out of the room and slammed the office door behind her.

"Well the fate of your job is held in my hands!" He yelled.

He straightened his coat and looked over at André.

"I think I handled that well." Firmin smiled. André just shook his head and continued reading aloud from the leather-bound book lying open on his desk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_So, it is to be war between us? I strictly ordered for Box 5 to remain empty, and I found it full! You are new to managing, I am well aware of the fact, however, that is no excuse for ignoring my commands! I am letting you off on a warning this time, Messieurs. But next time, there will be a slim chance of survival for the both of you. I expect that my letter be taken seriously and not discarded, like the rest of my letters, into the waste basket._

_I remain your obedient servant,_

_Ph. O._

Firmin sat at his desk reading the crinkled piece of paper for the twelfth time in the past few minutes. He pushed the letter away from him and stood up, wiping the beads of sweat from his palms.

"André, this joke has gotten out of proportions! I'm phoning the police." Firmin announced.

"What for?"

"To report every single one of these lunatics in this place."

He picked up the phone and began to dial, when he was interrupted by the door hitting the wall. A tall, red headed woman entered in a navy silk dress and furs bundled around her.

"I demand an answer!" She shouted.

Both mangers immediately began to mumble words of confusion before she waved an ivory envelope under their noses.

"What is this?" She growled.

"Signora Carlotta, I can't seem to comprehend-" André started, but Carlotta stomped her foot down and cursed under breath before continuing.

"This is a letter you fools! A letter telling me, me, to stay away from here." She explained.

André stumbled over the tail of Carlotta's fur wrappings to get over to the Prima Donna.

"May I?" He asked while holding out his hand. Carlotta slapped the letter in his hand and let out a great sigh of anger.

"La Carlotta, if you choose to appear tonight, a disaster worse than death will come upon you. Christine Daaé is to sing the role of Marguerite in Faust tonight. Mark my words, you have been warned. Signed, Ph.O." André shakily read aloud.

"Do you know what this letter means?" Firmin asked.

Carlotta puffed out her chest and jerked the letter from André's hand. She pointed to the red letters at the bottom of the page.

"Who is this?" She angrily shook the page. André leaned in for further inspection of the letter, and compared it with the one he had received.

"Ph.O." He considered the possibilities. He studied it for a moment longer before coming up with an answer.

"The Phantom of the opera." He confirmed.

"Oh, those men are good." Firmin blamed the past managers.

"That scrap of flesh can't play her! I am the only one in all of Paris who can successfully sing the part of Marguerite." Carlotta huffed.

"And you shall play her. I've no fear of this so called 'Phantom'. He promised a disaster if someone sat in Box 5, and I sat in Box 5 and not a thing happened to me." Firmin lightly shook the threats out of his mind.

André nervously paced the room, his already graying hair seemed to turn whiter everyday since he accepted the position as manager, and today was no exception.

"Someone get Mademoiselle Daaé, now." André ordered.

When no one seemed to listen, he walked over to the concierge and repeated the statement. She nodded, stood up and walked out of the room to fetch Christine Daaé. She returned, finding no sign of her.

"Messieurs, I cannot find her. She must not have arrived yet." The young concierge explained. André grunted and turned back to Carlotta.

"Signora, the role is yours." He assured the stuck-up soprano.

* * *

**EPOV**

One cannot get revenge on another without knowing how to. I sat high up in the theatre, listening to that incompetent voice that they called music. Ha! No one but my Christine was capable of those notes she was attempting to hit. My hand slipped around the rope that was holding the glistening chandelier high in its place on the roof. But I wouldn't drop it just yet, I had to get Carlotta out of the picture first.

I had a different kind of revenge planned for her.

"_Oh, how strange! Like a spell does the evening bind me!  
And a deep languid charm I feel without alarm  
With its melody, entwine me. And all my heart subdue_." Carlotta sang out.

Then it happened.

Carlotta opened her mouth to sing once again, but this time her voice let out a different noise.

"Croak!" She belted out.

I cackled and cackled from high up in my seat. I watched the managers, who were sitting in _my_ box, turn paler than I have ever been. In my youth, I had been held captive by gypsies. And from them, I had learned a few tricks. One of them just happened to be ventriloquism.

"Excuse me." She whispered.

Carlotta cleared her throat to repeat her lines.

"_Oh, how strange! Like a spell does the evening_- croak!  
_And a deep languid-_ croak!" The toad sang once again. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she backed away from the front of the stage.

"She is singing tonight to bring down the chandelier!" I allowed my voice to overtake the room.

The audience fell into a hushed silence at my remark. My hand grew tighter around the rope, prepared to let it fall. The acting manager ran out onto the stage, out of breath.

"My dear audience, La Carlotta is not able to continue her role tonight. The part of Marguerite shall be played by La Daaé!" He informed the audience.

Whispers of shock echoed throughout the theatre as Carlotta was led off the stage. Now was my time to act.

The rope slid from my grasp as it pierced the air like a knife. The audience let out a cry as they looked up at the chandelier, trapping anyone underneath its crystals. The chandelier crashed to the floor and the Opera Garnier was plunged into darkness.

* * *

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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Angel!" I screamed as I tripped through the mess that was once the peaceful concert hall, to get to my dressing room.

Tonight had been a disaster. The chandelier had crashed and I am afraid my angel was underneath it. He promised that he would be watching in the audience, and when the chandelier came down- oh! I couldn't even bear to think of the possibilities.

Shouts of terror filled the room, and people ran to see who had become victims. My heart broke for them, but I could only think of my angel. Had he been killed? Was he hurt, had he even come?

I dashed into my dressing room and locked the door before hysterically calling out for him, but no one answered.

"No. No, no, no!" I cried out.

"You're alive. You're an angel!" I continued to yell at the air.

"_Come! And believe in me! Whoso believes in me shall live! Walk! Whoso hath believed in me shall never die!..._" A voice sang out.

I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Angel!" I let the word escape my lips.

My breathing calmed as the harmony that was the Voice and his violin surrounded me. I allowed myself to fall into the music, and let it catch me. The angel played only for me.

The music captured me. It was like it could control me, and I was willing to let it. The sound beckoned me, calling me closer to its source. I found myself gliding towards my mirror as it led me.

The music continued, but my room was spinning. My room circled around me in a hurried frenzy as the music reached its climax. It lengthened and stretched itself out of shape, pulling the room around until it looked as if a storm had just blown through.

Then, it stopped.

I looked around myself to see what had caused the strange phenomenon. However, I was no longer in my small dressing room, but in a dark tunnel.

My hand clumsily felt around for something familiar, something to let me know that this wasn't a dream, and I found it. I felt the shape of a man, but could not see him.

A hand that felt like a bare bone brushed against mine and started leading me towards a dim red light at the end of the passage. I attempted to break the stranger's grasp, but he wouldn't let go. We reached the light and it illuminated the area, and I could see where I was.

The floors were made of cold, hard bricks and the dank stone walls were covered with small candles to light the passageway. I looked up to see where the light was coming from, only to see what I had felt just moments ago.

A man, dressed all in black, stood in front of me, holding my hand. A cape was draped over his shoulder and black gloves covered his hands. But what captured my attention most was the black mask that covered his entire face. Two yellow eyes, burning like a candle, were the only visible features on his face.

My eyes widened in shock and I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The hand that wasn't holding me, covered my mouth to keep me silent.

I inhaled too deeply and my nose was filled with the smell of death. My hand flew up to remove his cold hand from my face, but the darkness consumed me before I had the chance.

* * *

**EPOV**

I shouldn't be doing this.

Christine had fainted before my eyes and fallen into my arms. I don't deserve this. A demon shouldn't have an angel in his arms. I hardly deserved to touch her, but I couldn't stay like this forever.

Though I wish I could.

I cradled her small frame to my body and started to walk down the road to my home. I took a slight detour and stopped at the small well I had built on the side of the passageway.

I gently laid Christine on the ground with her head propped against my leg. I dipped my hand into the cold water and patted her forehead with it. My hand traced the gentle outline of her face, her pale face seemed to glow against the dark surface of my underground kingdom.

Her golden curls became wet from the water that had splashed out of the well and found her to be the perfect target for its icy water. I growled at the well, and scooted Christine away from it.

Christine's eyes fluttered open at my movement and her blue eyes met mine.

"Who are you? Where is my angel!" Christine gasped at the sight of me.

I sighed at her foolishness. Did she not recognize my voice? Oh! I had not spoken, no wonder she didn't recognize me.

I scooped her back into my arms. She didn't fight me, or scream in horror, she is such an angel. I scouted out Cesar and called him over to me. He obeyed, and I climbed on him, supporting Christine up against me as I did.

"Home." I commanded the white horse.

He strode through my labyrinth, slower than usual due to the extra weight. His nostrils flared at the familiar atmosphere of the lake, and he halted. I carefully lifted Christine off of him, and then I set her down onto the damp shore. She wobbled, like a child learning to walk, towards me.

I pulled my boat to the shore while Christine watched with wide eyes. I helped her into it and began to row through the light mist. She gazed at her new surroundings, until her eyes found me.

The boat hit the shore, and she whipped her head around to see where we had stopped. I leapt out of the boat and helped her out. I led her across the shore, and stopped in front of my front door.

I clicked the door open, letting Christine see inside. She leaned up against me, and I savored her touch.

"Welcome home, Christine."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**CPOV**

My head was spinning as I leaned up against this stranger. He led me into a room with a dazzling light. Flowers adorned the room, flowers that I had seen before. Red roses with notes attached, pink carnations, and even more that I didn't have a name for. But I recognized them all, because they had all been given to me at some point in time. Candles and vases alike were in this drawing room, but what I couldn't understand is why exactly there was a drawing room in the cellars.

I reached for the closest flower, but the man caught me off guard. There, in the center of the room was the man in the mask. His arms were crossed and he spoke very gently.

"Do not fear me, you are in no danger here."

No, it couldn't be. The voice that had just emerged from this man's mouth, is- is the angel's voice! I shook my head and started to retreat, slowly walking backwards. This was a dream, all a dream, I would wake up and I would be in my bedroom. It must be a dream!

"Please, Christine." He quietly called.

I rushed at him and attempted to pull off the piece of black leather that separated me from my kidnapper. He grabbed my hand and held it tight, I kicked him and he let me out of his grasp.

"You are in no danger, as long as you do not touch the mask." He warned me through clenched teeth.

"Who are you?" I barely got out.

He looked down, ignoring me.

"Who are you!" I repeated.

The mysterious man dropped down to his knees at my feet, crying.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you." He begged.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears touch my chin. I fell down to his level, nearly falling on him as I did. He gazed up at me, but turned away with a short cry at the sight of my tears.

"You must...you must understand...I'm not an angel," he started. I whimpered and he continued, "I am only Erik."

My breathing became heavier as the realization hit me. For nearly four months, I have put my faith in what I thought to be an angel, but is merely a man. He has tricked me! I went to stand up, but found that I couldn't, a force stronger than I caught me off guard. The man in front of me began to sing with my angel's voice.

My eyes became heavy and I felt myself start to sway. I shook my head, trying to ward off the music, but I couldn't. It was far too strong, too beautiful to resist. I felt my body go limp, and I fell into the man's arms, asleep.

* * *

This isn't my room. This isn't my bed, and this certainly is not my room! I look around me, for something familiar, but everything is different. Why, even my nightdress is different! I flip the white covers off of myself and leap onto the cold floor. The walls were the color of the noon sky, and there was a large armoire on the opposite wall. My hand skimmed the top of a nightstand when I heard the crunch of paper. My fingers grasped the page and I brought it to where I could read the red writing.

_My dearest Christine,_

_I had not the slightest intention to frighten you last night, for you have nothing to fear here. You can trust me, for I have the utmost respect and care for you. I have left, but only for a moment! I hope to be back before you awake, however, if I am not, there is a washroom to the right of you, with enough necessities to last you until I return. Do not try to escape, you will it not only extremely difficult, but impossible._

_Signed,_

_Erik_

My heart raced as I read over the letter. Surely last night was a dream, there is no possible way it couldn't be! I had been kidnapped last night, yet where was my kidnapper?

"A dream, Christine, it was all a dream." I assured myself, starting to pace around the small area I was in.

This is madness, complete madness! A curt laugh emerged from my mouth, yet at the same time I felt as I could cry. I continued this until I felt a pair of arms wrap around my frame. I whipped my head around only to be met with the masked man again.

"Shhh." The voice of my angel came from his mouth again.

I allowed my hand trail against his own before breaking his grasp.

"You're- you are real." I choked out.

"What else would I be?" He answered.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I flung the two questions at him.

"I have already answered both. I am Erik, and you are in Erik's house."

"Where is Erik's house, exactly?"

"Five cellars beneath the opera house."

My mouth fell open in shock, and he turned away from me.

"Yes," he continued, "you are five cellars deep, it is two in the afternoon, and Erik's love is standing in this very room."

"What?" I dumbly asked, not hearing the last part correctly.

He swiftly turned towards me and took my hand. "Do you wish to sing, _Christine Daaé_?"

I nodded my head, not knowing what other answer to give. His movements were more graceful than the most trained ballerina, smooth and natural. He slipped over to a door, a door I hadn't noticed and gave it three taps. It creaked open, and Erik signaled for me to follow him. I walked over to him, taking his hand when I reached him.

"My room is this way." He informed me as we glided through the odd hallway.

It was no different from any other hall, but this kind of hall just did not belong underground.

He turned the gold knob of a plain wooden door and we entered. There were only two things in the room, a majestic organ propped up against the back wall, and a coffin in the center. The room was entirely black with a few red hangings here and there. The coffin evoked my fear more than anything I had seen here, surely this man was about to kill me!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"What- what is this room?" I timidly asked.

"My room." He answered willingly.

"Your room?" I whisper as I release myself from his grasp.

I made my way over to the grand instrument sitting against the wall and ran my fingers along the black frame. My eyes fell upon all of the paper strewn across his organ. I leaned down and picked up a piece.

"What is this?" I ask him.

He sighs and strolls over to me, picking up another sheet of music.

"Don Juan Triumphant." He quietly states.

"I've never heard-" I start but he quickly cut me off.

"It is my creation, I've worked on it for twenty years. And when I am finished, I will take it and lie down in that coffin and never awake."

"What a sad fate." I stiffly say, still trying to piece together his music. I slowly stand up with a pile of music in my hands and turn to face him.

"Will you play me some of it?"

His hands tore the music away from me, and he threw it down onto the floor.

"No!" He choked out. "It's not finished."

"Can I have a preview?" I try to persuade him.

"No, but I will play you something else. My Don Juan burns, Christine. I won't allow your ears to be consumed with that kind of music. It overtakes you before you even realize what is happening."

I stayed silent, allowing him to pick up the strewn music. He seated himself at the organ and called me over. I walked over to him, watching carefully to see what he would do.

"Do you wish to sing? I believe the duet from Othello would do." He said to me.

His gloved hands started to fly across the keys, never missing a beat. I began to sing my part, letting the character overtake me. When I was done, his voice flowed along with the music, almost as if it was written just for him. The hatred, the passion, the sorrow of the music soared out of him. I no longer saw his black mask, no I saw the mask of the Moor of Venice. Why I saw Othello himself! My nimble hands reached down towards him as he played, captivated by the music, and caught in the moment. I swiftly tore away the mask and threw it to the ground.

"Noooo!" Erik cried. I ran out of the room, and he pursued, I came to a dead end and turned around to face him. He pinned me to the wall, crushing my back against it as he did so. My mind hadn't even thought of what his face looked like, it hadn't cared, until now.

His golden eyes had disappeared, leaving two black sockets in their place. His cheeks were sunken in and the skin was peeled off. He had a few wisps of thin hair on top of his cracked skull, and _he had no nose_!

I screamed, attempting to turn my head the other direction, but he caught it and forced me back to turn back to him.

"Handsome, am I? _No_! Do not look away, Christine, you are the one who wanted to see me! You...you have lost your freedom, _Christine Daaé_! You are mine and will never leave! You must love me, for when someone has seen me they may never leave!" He roared.

I closed my eyes in fear, but reopened them at his rage.

"Do you think my head is just another mask?" He sneered, as he dug his hands into my hair. "Well, perhaps it is. Why not see for yourself?"

With that, he grabbed my hands, flinging them up towards him. He controlled my hands, making my fingernails dig into his skin. Blood seeped out of his temples and dead skin coiled off at my touch. The blood ran down my hands, and into my dress sleeve. His face scrunched up in pain, and he wailed out in agony. He dropped my wrists, and crawled away like an injured animal back to his room.

I gathered my skirts up and trudged back to my room. I ran into the bathroom, flipping on the faucet of the sink as soon as I reached it. I splashed the cold water on my face and around my neck before washing my hands. Dead skin and blood were trapped beneath the surface of my nails, determined to stay where they were.

The smell of him was everywhere. On my dress, in my hair, it even smelled of him on my skin. It was horrid! I couldn't hold my disgust in any longer, and so I vomited right in the middle of the tidy bathroom.

I ripped off my nightgown and filled up the ivory bathtub with water. Dozens of fancy soaps and bath salts circled the tub, each one with their own distinctive scent and color. I sunk into the bathtub, embracing the warm water. I bathed in silence until I heard music. It was not the beautiful, soothing music I was used to hearing, but one that sounded like one big sob. It was awful, yet it released every emotion that had been consuming me.

I finished bathing and wrapped a towel around me before slipping over to my door to listen to it. The music pulled at me, wanting me to cry and smile at the same time. My heart tore in two as I listened to the music turn from one big mess into a gentle lullaby, one that I had heard before.

It sounded like the one that father would play for me during the cold winter months. My angel was the only one that I had shared the tune with- so it was true. My angel is not an angel, but a man.

I tip toed over to the wooden wardrobe and selected a red velvet dress from the choices. I stepped into my dress and tied my sopping wet hair back with the ribbon that had been set on top of the wardrobe. I shivered and went to find a mirror in my room, but there was none. I shook my head, finding the fact rather curious.

I walked back over to the door and wrapped my hand around the golden knob. I twisted it open and stepped into the hall. Quietly, so I wouldn't disturb him, I made my way to his room. I pressed my ear against his door, letting the music intoxicate me. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before turning the door knob, and entering.


End file.
